


Watch Me

by Corker



Series: Love Me [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Blindfolds, Butt Plugs, Collars, Dom/sub, Exhibitionism, Leather Kink, Masturbation, Multi, Riding, Size Kink, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-14
Updated: 2014-02-14
Packaged: 2018-01-12 09:34:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1184667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corker/pseuds/Corker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Isabela and Aveline take their Dom/sub game out to the Hanged Man, where Hawke is peacocking around in tight leather pants.  Aveline draws the line at propositioning their Fearless Leader, so Isabela blindfolds him so that she can have some fun while Aveline watches.</p><p>Yeah, Hawke was female a bit back. Sue me, it's porn.  Maybe they're twins?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Watch Me

Aveline gave a startled jump in her seat at the Hanged Man when Isabela’s hand suddenly slid up her thigh. “Easy, bitch,” the pirate chuckled throatily near her ear. “Or somebody’ll notice.” Aveline felt the barest touch of soft lips as Isabela added in a whisper, “Unless you _want_ them too...”

The redhead huffed uncomfortably and looked down at her drink. So far, the... _things_ she had been doing with Isabela had been confined to quarters. There was a strict division between Regular Life and... whatever it was. And that line was drawn by about an inch of black leather around Aveline’s neck. When it was off, she was Guard Captain Aveline Vallen. She called Isabela a slattern, the slattern called her Lady Man-Hands, and they cracked heads with Hawke. For the good of Kirkwall, naturally.

When it was on, she was the pirate queen’s Fereldan bitch. And for the first time, tonight it was on outside of a rented room, underneath her usual orange bandana, the one she wore to pull up over her nose if the Lowtown ash and soot got too bad. She’d agreed to it, put it on, and followed her queen to the Hanged Man. The lines were blurring between her two lives, and she wasn’t sure if it was exciting because it was frightening, or frightening because it was exciting. It was _definitely_ confusing, and she should probably make a mental note to slow things down. 

After tonight.

Isabela sat back, leaving her hand where it was, calling out a few friendly hellos to the other regulars. Varric, who was too perceptive by half, had finally been dragged kicking and screaming to a Merchant’s Guild meeting. There was that small mercy. Wicked Grace had been last night, so they probably wouldn’t see most of the rest of the team...

“Hawke!” Isabela reached up to wave with her other hand, and Aveline died slightly. Hawke? “Ooo, new look,” she murmured approvingly as he made his way across the bar. “There’s a party in those pants and I hope _I’m_ invited.”

Hawke was not Aveline’s type. Not that ‘type’ was the be-all and end-all of attraction (witness: Isabela), but it was just plain awkward when she felt more manly than the man she was with. The daughter of a chevalier, wife of a templar - she looked for broad shoulders, strong arms, deep chests. Hawke was long and lean, deft and graceful rather than stoic and solid, with high cheekbones and a narrow chin that looked... all right, not feminine, but at least vaguely elfy. Not the hairy chest-thumping masculinity she found herself looking for. (Isabela aside. Because that was... just whatever it was.)

Tonight, however, there was absolutely no doubt as to the status of Hawke’s man-card. Not the shirt casually open at the neck - no, that revealed a glimpse of smooth, almost polished warm brown skin. Not the hair, a long, dark heavy braid that fell to his shoulders. No, it would be the pants Isabela had remarked upon. The leather pants. The _excruciatingly tight_ leather pants. 

That would have really been enough to make her eyes glaze. She liked leather, used to tell herself it was just a familiar, homey scent and texture. Armor straps and such. But that didn’t really explain wearing a leather jerkin next to her bare skin around the house and other little hobbies. Under Isabela’s tutelage, she’d discovered that she _really liked_ leather. She also _really liked_ the feeling of constraint, of her powerful muscles straining against bonds or the more subtle pleasure of being tightly corseted - like she was now. (Her queen had seen to a few accessories to make the evening more interesting.) So all by themselves, Hawke’s new trousers were an object of fascination. He didn’t even seem to be wearing a belt, the pants keeping themselves up through the skintight grip on his hips - because they didn’t even get close to his waist. Maker’s breath, how’d such a thing get onto a person? Did he have Orana sew him into it? Would it cup the ass with constant pressure, a constant, gentle reminder that every curve was on display, the soft leather tightening against the joints with every step...?

But it wasn’t just the pants. It was what was in the pants. Forget cupping the ass - right there, right in the front, Maker’s breath, right at eye level with them sitting and him standing, was proof positive that Hawke was a man. Very, very much a man. In fact, proof seemed almost ready to poke out of the top of those low-slung pants to join them at the table. And not just long - wide, three fingers across if it was one. It was something more appropriately sized to a qunari than to a human, she thought.

“Happy to see us, sweet thing?” Isabela purred next to her.

“Always!” Hawke replied, cheerfully but not exactly innocently. “And how’s my favorite guard captain this evening?”

Aveline froze, eyes shifting up guiltily. Hawke had one hand flat on their table, resting his weight on it to cant out _those hips_ , and was watching her with a tiny half-smirk. She felt her face redden as she realized he’d caught her staring - and it was _patently_ unfair that her pale, freckled skin showed every passing shade of pink _(alerting anyone nearby to her **dirty** thoughts and then what might they do, hm?)_. She swallowed and coughed to make sure her voice worked. “Wondering if I should cite you for indecent exposure, Hawke.”

“It’s all covered! I can’t help it if I’m... gifted.” His voice sounded injured, but his eyes still twinkled mischief.

“Don’t like it, don’t look,” Isabela pronounced, so Aveline sighed heavily and stared down into her drink. The two rogues chatted for a moment more before a jittery fellow interrupted - yet another unfortunate soul seeking the assistance of _the_ Hawke.

Hawke led the fellow a short distance away, far enough that the hum of conversation and drunken revelry in the Hanged Man drowned out the conversation, but near enough that - Aveline glanced up - yes, it was still there. Very obviously there.

“It’s as good as it looks,” Isabela said into her ear. “Taking it in, inch by inch, nice and easy. Stretches you out, fills you up and hits _all_ the good spots. Top to the very, very bottom. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

The warm fascination shifted into something hotter and more sharp under Isabela’s evocative words. Aveline eyed the bulge sidelong. “You... make it sound nice.”

“It _is_. I make him start out with me on top, of course, but sometimes it’s nice to finish up with a good solid pounding, legs up and splayed so he can go all the way in. We could tie your knees up and out, let him push in and see how fast you can take it, how much... or maybe how slow. Mmm, just stuck there, impaled on that giant cock for who knows how long...”

Aveline gave a quick little pant and took a swig from her cup; her mouth was so very dry all of a sudden. Unlike what was going on between her legs. But Isabela kept relentlessly on. “Not that you’d get to have him in your cunt right off. No, a bitch has to _earn_ a cock like that. Tell me how you’d show me and Hawke you deserve that gloriously huge cock.”

She had to be absolutely crimson, she knew. The dirty, nasty words that came so easily to Isabela _(that she burned like fire to hear)_ always hovered just beyond the tip of her tongue. She didn’t want to say them, wanted Isabela to _make_ her say them, wanted not to be so terrible and foolish at it. She grabbed at three short words, said them to herself four times over, and blurted them out with as much bravado as she could muster: “I’d suck it.”

“Would you?” Isabela sounded genuinely surprised. “Hm. Like to see that, I would,” she mused, as if considering a festival show. Her tone returned to the sultry with her next words. “Certainly I would. Open you up big and wide - you clamp your jaw too much, bitch. I do _all_ this hard work for you, and you won’t even moan properly for me. Of course,” she could hear Isabela’s frown, even if all she could _see_ right now was a leather-clad bulge, all ready to be eased out of the top of those pants into a hot, waiting mouth, “you’d be practically gagged, but... good practice, anyway. Would you take it up the ass for me?”

“Oh Maker.” Aveline ducked her head and sought refuge in her cup again. Not long ago, suggestions of ass- _anything_ would have been met with indignation, derision and secret curiosity. But Isabela considered it a fine joke to insist that Aveline wear a plug back there, ‘to keep it ready for the stick.’ The stick up her ass she had as Guard Captain, get it, haha?

Ha ha. Isabela had steadily increased the size of the toy, and the one she wore tonight was the largest yet - but it couldn’t be half the size of Hawke. They’d have to oil her and stretch her and work her, and even then it would be an enormous, inescapable intruder... Andraste’s tits, she was going to slide out of her chair at this rate. “Yes, my queen,” she admitted with a shudder, sufficiently far-gone in lust to use the honorific in public.

“You are _so_ sodding hot,” Isabela breathed, and Aveline felt a flush of pleasure. “So go over there and tell Hawke to meet us in my room in ten.”

 _”What?”_ Aveline squawked, sitting bolt upright (and jarring the plug electrically). What if he said no? What if he said _yes?_ What if the damn talkative drunk man saw them all go and repeated it to Varric when he got back? What if -

Isabela’s honey eyes narrowed. “I _said_ -”

Aveline shook her head, heart pounding. No, no, this was... “D-danger ahead,” she stammered, giving the signal word she and Isabela had agreed to.

The pirate leaned back in her chair immediately. “So really, _really_ no, then. Don’t worry, big girl, I’m not mad,” she smiled, and Aveline wondered if her anxiety had been written all across her face. “Honestly, I was beginning to worry that I’d have to break something before you’d use it. Want to leave?”

“N-no, we don’t have to leave,” she breathed, relieved. “I’m just... not doing that. I can’t, I just can’t.”

“Message received,” Isabela nodded. “But if you can’t ask for the goods, you don’t get to sample them.”

Aveline nodded. Those were just consequences. Besides, as lust-fog-inducing as the fantasies Isabela spun around Hawke’s cock were, he was still _Hawke_. She didn’t work for him, exactly, but she volunteered her time under the banner of his leadership. Maybe Isabela could bang him and just show up for the next mission like nothing was different, but she wasn’t at all sure that she could.

“I, on the other hand, intend to fully partake,” the pirate finished with a wicked grin. “And there still might be a way to work you in...”

\---------------

“You have all the best ideas,” Hawke gasped, coming up for air as Isabela pushed him through the door to her room. “Is it Aveline?”

“Sweet thing,” the pirate said, shucking his shirt over his head, “when I said I wasn’t going to tell you who, that didn’t mean you should try to guess.”

“Maker, you were both staring so hard I thought I was gonna _mm_.” Isabela interrupted him with firm strokes over the glossy leather bulge. 

“This is pretty,” she said, “but useless. How do we get it _out_?”

Hawke had to laugh. “This might take a few minutes.”

It did. Isabela helped, deft fingers easing open the ties and knots that held the array of lacings down the legs and around the seat tight. Rolling the leather off once the laces were loose would have been easy, if Isabela hadn’t kept wiggling around, trying to get her hands on the goods. Eventually, they got Hawke undressed, and then Isabela, and finally she tied her blue kerchief tightly around his eyes. “No peeking,” she told him.

“ _Hnnngh,_ Bela, I wanna watch her watching me,” Hawke whined, undulating lazily on the bed like a cat that had been disturbed.

“I’ll tell you all about it,” the pirate promised. “And she’s watching _us_.” She opened the door and, per instructions, Aveline was there, leaning against the wall. “Come on in,” she purred. 

“Hi Aveline!” Hawke called. Isabela felt rather than saw her pet stiffen next to her, and she insisted, “He’s guessing,” before Aveline could react any more and give herself away. “And rudely, too. What if it’s Norah, Hawke, or that Orlesian piece I was chatting up? You’re a selfish little prat in bed, you know that?”

“Well, you’d know,” he drawled. “But Maker, she was starin’ so _hard_ , Bela. Hey, if nobody minds, I’m just going to play a game of ‘sexy punishment for indecent exposure with the guard captain watching to make sure it’s all regulation’ in my head, okay?”

Isabela smirked as Aveline’s eyes got very wide. “Our guest seems intrigued by the notion, Hawke. Sit down, sweet, get comfortable.” Isabela indicated the sea chest that was the only furnishing in the room besides the bed. “Now in the interests of fair play, I’ve got a rule. You can watch the show quietly with your hands on your knees.” Aveline nodded. “You want to put those hands anywhere else, Hawke has to hear how good it feels. You don’t have to speak, Lady Anonymous, but we want the moans and the groans and the sighs. Hawke, no guessing the voice.”

“These are good rules. I like this game,” Hawke said.

“Oh, our guest isn’t so sure,” Isabela narrated for him, watching Aveline’s trapped expression. “Let me help her with this excess of clothing she’s got... ooo yes, she’s slick down her inner thighs already, Hawke, so hot and wet...” Aveline’s jaw was clamped tight again, but Isabela allowed it - she wasn’t touching _herself_ so it wasn’t covered under the rules. “But I think she’s _shy_ and doesn’t want you to hear her touching herself while you fuck me.”

Still blindfolded, Hawke sat up in bed to offer a salute. “Then let’s start with being irresistibly sexy, Cap’n! I shall take this as a personal challenge!”

Aveline carefully took her spot on the sea chest, back against the wall and hands carefully on her knees; Isabela took a second to position those knees far apart and open because _reasons_. Aveline blushed harder but didn’t protest or move as Isabela crawled into bed with Hawke.

She loved talking dirty. It was a huge rush, watching just _words_ turn her playmates on so hard. “Can you see what I’ve got here?” she asked Aveline, fondling Hawke’s cock as he reclined. “So hard and _heavy_. It looks big but it feels _huge_.” No lie, that. The stiff, solid weight of the organ in her hand was impressive. “Smooth and soft and so very, very hot...”

Aveline whimpered involuntarily, and Hawke twitched in her hand. “Oh, he heard you and he likes that,” she said, gently stroking the velvety skin from tip to root. “She is watching us like a predatory bird that is definitely not a hawk,” she informed her partner. “Lips apart just a little like she wants to lick you - like this.” Isabela laid a long wet stripe down Hawke’s length, drawing twin shuddering sighs. “Or maybe like this.” She swirled her tongue around the flared head, eliciting a strangled sound from Hawke. “Too bad she’s sitting out or one of us could lick your shaft while the other sucked your balls.”

Hawke groaned. “Come on, Bela, stop teasing.”

“Only because I want that gorgeous thing in me now,” she agreed, pulling herself upright and lining him up. Hawke was beautiful, all sinuous lines of erotic tension, waiting for that first welcome touch of soft-hot-wet. Aveline was... “Our audience is thinking about joining in,” she smirked, seeing that one hand had left its white-knuckled grip on Aveline’s knee and was hesitantly sliding up her thigh. “She’s so hot watching me play with you, Hawke. She’s on fire and the little slut can’t help but touch herself.”

Isabela didn’t throw words like ‘bitch’ and ‘slut’ around casually, having heard them far too many times herself. But the effect on Aveline - during playtime, at least - was always immediate and appreciated. At Isabela’s words, she left off her tentative inching and brought her hand straight between her spread legs, gasping and arching into her own touch. Her eyes shut automatically, then opened again. “That’s right, sweet,” Isabela grinned. “You can’t see the show if you close your eyes. I’ll watch you if you watch me.”

“Belaaaaa...” Hawke bucked his hips, bumping her with his tip.  
“Boys,” Isabela muttered, lowering herself down fractionally. All three of them made various throaty noises as Hawke’s cock nosed into Isabela. “ _Oh_ you feel good,” she told him, sinking down a little farther before she felt stuck and tight. “I’ll get all of you, honey, just let me take my time. Play with my tits?”

Hawke eagerly complied with the request, reaching up to gently squeeze and knead and rub. “Mm, good,” Isabela purred, rising up a little before lowering herself again, taking more of him. “Now she doesn’t know what to do with her hands, Hawke. She’s trying to rub her clit and fuck herself with her fingers and fondle her tits all at the same time.”

“I got a spare tongue,” Hawke panted hopefully.

Isabela cocked an eyebrow at Aveline, but the red-faced redhead shook her head emphatically. “She just likes to look, not touch,” Isabela said. “But she _really_ likes to look. Now she’s rocking back and forth a bit... our slutty guest has a plug up her ass, Hawke, and she’s fucking herself on it, watching us fuck.” Aveline whimpered and cried out in agreement, shame fighting desire on her face and losing.

He groaned. “You’re making that up.”

“No, it’s a nice-sized plug, not as big as you, but it’s deep in her... deeper... deep... _ah!_ ” Isabela finally rocked herself all the way down. “No no, let me go slow, let me feel you in me, so tight, Hawke! Oh, oh sweet thing, Hawke, she’s matching our pace, three fingers crammed into her cunt, you hear her panting? She wants more, she wants it faster...”

“I’m good with faster,” Hawke said, voice tight. 

“Soon, soon,” Isabela promised, still taking him nice and slow, watching him strain, watching Aveline try to hump her own hand, shifting and squirming on the sea chest, eyes fixed on Isabela and Hawke instead of scrunched tight shut in her own world. She let loose a long, gusty sigh as the sensations built to her first climax, a gentle wave that nevertheless made her toes tingle. “ _Ohhhh_ I like it like that,” she purred. “All right, Hawke, your turn.”

The two nimble rogues switched positions without separating, Isabela lying back while Hawke sat up, tucking his legs behind him. Isabela still issued a few orders - pillows there, angled like that, lift up a bit - until she could drop her head back over the edge of the bed to stare at Aveline, while Hawke held her legs up and apart as he knelt between them. “She’s watching you slam me _uh!_ with that big cock and she’s _uh!_ harder! Like you’re fucking us both, come on, faster, _harder_ -” Aveline’s labored breathing turned to vocalizations, more and more gutteral. “Jam those fingers in _hard_ , slut, take four! _AH_ Hawke, Hawke!”

Isabela came first, a wild whoop of pleasure as she saw stars. Hawke wasn’t far behind, his inarticulate growl sliding up the scale into a gasp that stepped on the toes of Aveline’s hoarse, full-throated cry.

They all lay there, panting and spent, exactly where they’d dropped, for a few long minutes.

“Really,” Hawke said at last. “All the best ideas.”

Isabela groaned agreement and angled herself so that her head was on the bed. She’d have a headache later, but watching Aveline’s face, open and expressive for once, was _so_ worth it. “Our guest has to get cleaned up and leave, and then you can take the blindfold off. If you peek, so help me Hawke, I will cut those magnificent balls off your carcass. _Oh_ ,” she groaned, an idea coming too late, “you should have come on my tits. I think our guest would have _loved_ that.”

“No offense to Mystery Guest, but there was no way I was leaving my happy place,” Hawke chuckled.

Aveline dressed efficiently; Isabela slithered out of bed just in time to stop her at the door. Lifting one of Aveline’s large, rough hands to her lips, she stared into the other woman’s eyes as she sucked them clean. The redhead gasped, so Isabela rewarded the sound with a kiss. “See?” she whispered into her ear. “Told you that you needed to make some more noise.”


End file.
